Inception
by BurnsRubber
Summary: TRANSFORMERS PRIME: Lead astray by a weak energon signature, Optimus Prime and Smokescreen fall into the clutches of Megatron with an orchestrated Decepticon ambush. Warnings for violence, abuse and spanking in later chapters.
1. Pilot

The earth scorched the sky, testing the lengths of her grace with summer's clutch. Morning air against moving metal, clouds dashed with the light of the sun. A Prime and his mechling, side by side, on roads humans hadn't ventured upon in years. They kept a steady speed, staying within the limit, though matching- driving aside one another, keeping pace. High pitched engine compared to the low, deep reverberations of the Peterbilt. Silence morphed into the enjoyment of a simple drive, miles spread apart, rubber against tarmac.

One thing Smokescreen inherited from his sire, was the intense love for the road. Driving, moving across landscapes alike a ghost. Inconspicuous. And here they were, tracking an energon signal, a ways off. Supplies were run into the ground, energon stores depleting faster than they could find it. It was a race against time, a race they were losing- a race the rookie was bound and determined to win, to catch up to the Decepticons. To even the odds. But ambitions ran dry in the face of an enemy with far more firepower than either could handle. So they drove, and drove, and drove. But neither were complaining.

"How- How much farther, sire?" Came a timid voice, the hints of a youngling nearly half asleep, though driving all the same. A chuckle answered his question, the commander amused by his sparkling's nature,

"We are nearly there, Smokescreen." Came a patient, wise voice- several choruses of baritone laced in a gentle aura. The energon in their tanks was enough to last a few more weeks; though drives such as this could prove harmful in the long run. A response was not necessary, though the young bot's anticipation bled through the silence he mustered. Smokescreen contemplated a response as the time ticked on, the miles adding up, the time spent hunting the signal- but before he could think of something to talk about, the tracker beeped far more intensely than before.

"Just over that rise. Let us proceed with utmost caution; reconnaissance only." A swift transformation led the praxian to follow suite- electric blue hues traveling to land upon the exuberant mech's helm. With his sire's transformation came a series of mild grunts- due to the age of the antique mech, Smokescreen did not question it,

"Yes sir." He answered, tone hushed, flanking his father. Steps were careful as he ascended the miniature cliff. The rocks easily supported their weight, clinging to the earth decades before she had even come into contact with the autobots currently stationed upon her. No activity showed upon the Autobot's systems- everything was quiet, though Ratchet wasn't exactly monitoring exceedingly close. It was not a full-blown mission, after all.

As they neared, a sinking feeling gripped at Optimus Prime's tanks- circulating throughout his entire system. Something felt uncanny; alike a plague did the gut feeling reside within the elder mech. The Prime proceeded, in fear that his instinct may be off, a mere reaction to the immense need to protect his creation. Blending into the forest, branches scraping against metal as they passed through. Neither faltered, though they moved with caution, as instructed. Their footfalls led them on a hike. It was short lived, however, once the pair of Autobots reached the edge of the abundance of conifers, a rock formation came into their field of view. A gap between the tanned surface indicated that they had, in fact, located an energon deposit. Although, upon further inspection, revealed the trick behind this elaborate ruse. Carts, stock piled with energon set out before the father and son. Optimus Prime raised his servo, signalling the youngling to halt.

"We have been **deceived**." The grovel was not absent from the Prime's vocals as he spoke to his only son. Digits graze the praxian's chest, oh so slightly, before his right servo transformed into a blaster. Smokescreen followed suit, both servos exchanged for blasters before he tucked himself close to Optimus' side. The two began to walk forwards, ever so slowly, aiming their guns at every possible angle. Something was off, and they both knew it- but neither could pinpoint what exactly.

At the base of the cavern did they halt, aiming their weapons inside. Nothing.

"Spread out- look for any signs of Decepticon activity. Report to me if you encounter them, do not engage without my aide. Understood?" Nodding up at his creator, the stare intensified a degree, which evoked a further response, "I- I won't go in alone, I promise." A nod before they turned their separate ways, though Optimus was trusting of his son, he was still wary. Worried, as a Leader and parent should be. Smokescreen headed left of the cave ( left as in if you were facing it from the front ) while Optimus Prime headed to the right. The sun warmed armor as they bore its heat; neither of them paid it any mind, however. The Autobot Commander aimed his blaster towards the cluster of trees, optics scanning the area, battle mask already activated. But there was nothing. A grunt before he reached up, activating his communications frequency, linking to Smokescreen.

"Smokescreen, what is your status?" Static. "Smokescreen?" Pede steps were swift, headed for the last location he had seen the rookie- worry began to billow within his spark, his pace definitely not absent of urgency. Optics searched the opening of the cavern, the energon still there. Nothing. Optimus was nearly about to contact Ratchet when he heard the telltale sounds of fighting- which also evoked mild anger and fear from his spark.

Both blasters were raised, pede steps reverberating against dirt clad ground, baked by the sun's unforgiving heat. An exvent expelled any dirt clogging his systems, possibly to focus better- fight more comfortably. The scene before him was startling- Smokescreen was cornered at all angles, digits reaching for him and blasters pointed at his fascia. A shot to his abdomen, a muffled cry and more Eradicons swarming was enough to kickstart the Prime into motion. Rounds left the blaster, the energon offlining the targets upon contact. Cyan optics narrowed into slits, beginning to pick off the Decepticons. Two were offlined before a shadow loomed behind; rigid with every edge and ripped at every seam. Clawed digits clasped about Optimus's shoulder plating, jostled about to barely face the perpetrator before his fusion cannon slammed into the Prime's helm. Alike dead weight, Optimus collapsed to the earth's clutches, unconscious.

"Sire!" A cry split through the air, and so did the tense aura of Smokescreen's temper. The minions of Megatron jostled the boy about, throwing him to dirt. A roll, nearly sloppy, saved the praxian from a direct hit against the ground. While Smokescreen had been busy with himself, Megatron rounded about, stalking, wickedly observing the teen bot's struggle. The moment he reached for his phase shifter, the warlord was on him- digits digging into the plating upon his left wrist, lifting the sports car from the ground.

"Uh, uh, uh…" Guttural words, grip tight like vice, while the remaining servo reached to snatch the shifter from the young bot's right wrist, "I believe you are coming with me, boy." While the Prime was unconscious, Megatron put it upon himself to take care of Smokescreen- entrusting him, conscious, with the Eradicons would be a mistake he could not afford. "And if I don't want to?" Smokescreen's voice blurted out, grimacing at the weight upon his shoulder joint. With that, he was lifted higher, optic level with Megatron; crimson against cerulean,

"Oh, but you misunderstand. You have no choice."

* * *

The Nemesis was as welcoming as it had been the first moment the youngling had set pede upon it. Clutched in sharp digits, Smokescreen stumbled as the young mech was brought behind Megatron- the warlord's frame was twice the size of his, causing his ability to keep up to be far harder than it should be. Not to mention the newly found grip between his doorwings, causing the stumbling to be greatly increase. Tips of long, hard digits dug into the sensitive metal found between Smokescreen's doors, creating intentions that swelled energon to the surface. Eradicons hoisted Optimus behind, all climbing aboard the transporter that brought them into the belly of the ship. Electric blues widen as the young mech look upon his sire, trying to find any sign of life- he had to be online, right? There was no way Megatron had offlined him with one swift blow to Optimus' helm. But the panic unsettled Smokescreen to his core.

Dim lighting illuminated frames, and one glance up at his captor showed bright glowing crimson optics. Blinking softly, Smokescreen sneered, even though Megatron hadn't returned the look. The yellow glowing lift stopped, and Megatron began walking again. The mech in his hold grunted in surprise, stumbling once again after the large mech. "Bring him to the brig so that I can prepare a _proper_ welcome for my old friend and his.. **_charge_**." Words sneered in Smokey's direction, but the younger mech did not allow him the satisfaction of flinching at his voice nor the tightened grip upon his sensitive plating.

Movement made himself known as Knock Out appeared, servos folded flatly against the small of his spinal column, and for a moment, deathly optics trained upon a mech with paint the same shade of red. Ignoring his medic, Megatron started for the brig before the drones could do as they were told. Optics drifted across the flashy young mech in his Lord's hold, a small smile creased Knock Out's lips. Smokescreen locked optics with the Decepticon medic, narrowing them at him, though with a silent plea for help. All he received in return was an increased smile, absent of good intention. And so, Megatron did not care much for Smokescreen's stumbling, merely feeling his ire grow towards the youngling, leading to increased pressure already established on soft plating. The small cry of pain was muffled but it did not escape the audio receptors of Megatron. A raspy chuckle left the Decepticon overlord's lips, teeth jagged and gleaming,

"You have caused me much trouble, little one; trouble I will not tolerate without **_punishment_**." Leading the Eradicons to the holding cells, Megatron swiftly lifted Smokescreen from his footing upon the floor and carelessly threw him. His back slammed against the floor before he did a flip, rolling several feet before metal screeched to a halt, "So small. _Weak_. There is no way you are a **_Prime's_ **creation." Words uttered through grit denta, large steps leading him to stand before Smokescreen's figure, now upon his servos and knees. Wings pinned against his spinal strut, helm lowered and slowly lifting as Megatron's pede tips entered his view, "Pathetic **_sparkling_**."

As Megatron loomed, a Vehicon appeared with a pair of stasis cuffs. Smokescreen bared his denta up at the warlord which earned him lowered optic ridges. Reaching down, the warlord pressed his steeled palm down where his digits once held the young mech- between his door wings. Roughly pushing his chassis to the ground, Megatron latched one side of the cuffs to the rookie's wrist before clicking the other into place. Hauling Smokey to his pedes, Megatron whipped around to see the progress of the Eradicons' work on the Prime's restraints. Optimus now hung from his wrists, elevated above his helm, held by energon restraints crackling from the hull of the Nemesis.

"I wish to be with my oldest enemy once he wakes. Take this.. heathen to a holding cell. I shall deal with him later accordingly."

The last thing Smokescreen saw was the back of Megatron's helm and the glow of the energon restraints holding his sire in place.


	2. Escape

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE** : Hey, everyone! I wanted to thank you for your support! Reading the reviews for the first chapter made me really happy, and I'm so glad you liked it! I wanted to apologize for how short my chapters are, but I'm trying to make them longer. Anyways, yeah, this chapter is gonna be a heavy one. This is your warning right now; there will be spanking in later chapters. And yes, it will not be to deliver discipline to one that needs it- it will only be to hurt. Please keep in mind I do not condone this outside of a story's purpose. It is abuse, but what else would we expect out of Megatron? Please keep negative reviews off of my works and please enjoy! All ( supportive ) reviews are welcome. They really help me get into the writing mood, and I can't thank you enough!_

* * *

Disorientation imploded molecules and circuits within the Prime's cranial chamber. Denta ground together as Optimus' optics onlined, systems rebooting and trying to rid his helm of the pounding ache that resided within it. Slits opened, allowing dim light to filter in gradually; though vision warped with crackling optics and the pain that resided within his helm. Eradicons held their blasters in one hand, optics trained right upon the Autobot leader- unyielding, wrathful aura about them. Locking his jaw, the Prime groaned deep within his throat, although the noise formed to a low growl nearing the end. The angle of his arms above his helm put serious pressure in his rotator cuffs, but Optimus found that to be the least of his worries. As soon as the commander began to question about his mechling's whereabouts, movement caught bright cyan optics. Megatron moved into view, servos clasped behind his back and crimson eyes gleaming in the shadows. Deep, raspy chuckles reached his audio receptors and Optimus Prime narrowed his optics at one he once considered a brother.

"Optimus." Came Megatron's voice, scratching like grains in a sandstorm, "If you are wondering where that brat is, you need not worry about him. For now, that is." One ridge raised, baring sharp shark-like denta with a single, unamused smile. And there it was; ire unlike anything Megatron had witnessed. Residing deep within coding rest the bold nature of Cybertronians and their sparklings; animalistic tendencies, heightened emotion and the unfocused urge to protect. At all cost- and it seemed now that Optimus had failed. As a leader, a sire, and a Prime. "What have you done with Smokescreen?" Voice low, brash and uncanny to leave such a stoic mech. And even so, Megatron merely laughed at him, a sadistic sound akin to Unicron himself. The warlord began to stalk about the Prime, evaluating prey, causing unease to lift within the stale air.

"Oh, Dear Optimus; a question to be answered at a later time," The volume of Megatron's voice neared Optimus' audio receptor. Hot steam grazed against the side of the Prime's fascia, in turn caused his optics to narrow furiously. "Tell me the location of your base, Optimus." Tone shifted, optics narrowing, red glowing next to blue, "Now." Relics of Iacon rest at Outpost Omega 1- the keys and all. Now that Smokescreen had ceased them and escaped in tact, Megatron sought them out with vigorous intent. All Megatron got in return was a glower, full of fight and resistance to anything Megatron's wrathful servo brought upon him. Fury ignited within Megatron's spark at his former friend's resilience; and yet, through burning embers that scorched his spark, the warlord forced a smile. Eerie, absent of actual humor. The distinct sound of metal sliding from it's slot hissed, the gladiator grade sword raised up to Optimus' neck.

"Your failure to comply will only get you so far." Voice raspy and low, the former gladiator's tone would inflict damage if it could. But no, that's what the Decepticon King had to his advantage; action to back up his word. "You **WILL** tell me, Optimus," Tilting the Prime's helm with his sword, the sharp tip caused energon to emerge from a small gash inflicted upon underneath Optimus' chin plating. Pushing against his neck cabling, the pressure grew and grew, Optimus groaned harshly, narrowing his burning blues. "Never, Megatron. I cannot allow you to harm my Autobots or the humans." Voice was deep, optic ridges furrowing, features stoic yet optics full of a rage unlike any other. Megatron scowled, hard, crimson optics beating with ill intention and purpose; he chuckled, again one that held no humor- his left fist swung abruptly, right into Optimus' abdomen. The force caused the Prime to grunt roughly, body bending slightly forwards, but Megatron's blade kept his helm up. Blue on red, the colors clashed as the warlord sneered, "It appears that you are in need of gentle _persuasion_ ," Releasing the pressure on the other's neck cabling, Megatron snarled and the tip of his blade began to run across Optimus' chassis. The Prime grunted as energon began to leak from the newly acquired, long gash that ran across. " **Where** is your base?!" Megatron bellowed this time, iron fist slamming into the sensitive, lower part of his back.

Smaller pedes stumbled to a standing position, young optics wide with worry and fear. The bellow made it's way through thick walls, somehow- Smokescreen had stumbled to the door, chassis pressed against the closed door. There were guards posted on the outsides of his doors, and that hadn't seen him yet, nor did they look in the direction of Megatron's rampage. Panic erupted in his spark, and the youngling searched for the bond between himself and his father. But Optimus Prime blocked his pain from his son, only sending waves of reassurance and powerful love. While his spark swarmed with protection, his frame shook with anger, fear and pain. The youngling began to pace, looking for any air ducts he could climb into, anything that would lead to his escape. There wasn't much Smokey could do with the cuffs- which instantly gave him an idea.

Seating himself on the floor, the young one grunted as he forced his arms over his aft, downwards and finally fitting the cuffs over his pedes. Now his hands were placed before him, making it easier to move. Furrowing his optic ridges, the Praxian flared his wings as he continued around the dimly and ominously lit room. Nothing near the floor that he could crawl out of. That was when his optics searched the top, optics flicking into night vision as to allow him to see if there was any such thing. Drones were scrapped in the brain- his lips curled in a blaring smile as he made out an opening at the base of the ceiling. Very far away, but not impossible. "Stupid 'Cons. You can't even make sure I can't escape?" Snickering softly, Smokescreen shook his helm and took a step back. A command console for the energon restraints. Turning, wings dipped low in concentration- his back plating met the wall and he closed his eyes, taking in intakes of air. Megatron has his Phase Shifter, if he could just... get it back. He's taken things from the Decepticon before with laughable ease. He could do it again.

"Here goes nothing." Voice was soft, whispering to himself and the youngling took off at a dead sprint. "If I can climb the wall while training for the Elite Guard, I _can_ do this."Once he neared the control panel, the young bot leaped up and landed on the edge of the panel before bounding up once more. As he lept up, his pede set off an alarm he hadn't seen before; even so, he could not stop now. Using the momentum of the leap to hit the wall, he pushed off of it and hit the other side of the wall, pushing himself up several times before his servos took hold of the edge of the duct. Grunting, Smokescreen shuffled into the duct and continued crawling up as the Troopers ran into the room, blasters trained. But Smokescreen was gone.

Energon dripped from Optimus' lip components as Megatron demanded where the base was, once more- but before the warlord could deliver another hit, the alarm filled the air. Megatron snarled, lowering his servo, turning his back and glaring at the Drones just standing there. "What is it?!" The mech bellowed, lips curled, teeth bared. The Drones from Smokescreen's cell came rushing in, fear wafting off of them in waves, "The Autobot has escaped, Lord Megatron." Optic ridges lifting up, the warlord roared in anger and lifted his canon. The two Drones were dead in a quick second, their chests wafting with smoke from their quick deaths. "Find him!" He bellowed at the other Drones just standing, staring in shock, " ** _N_ _ow_**!"

Once the Drones bolted off, only two remained, pointed right at Optimus. Megatron turned on his heel, face to face with Optimus- hot steam brushed against the Prime's fascia, the warlord snarled dangerously, chuckling without laughing completely, " _Withholding_ the location of your base will only get you so far, Optimus," Megatron gripped the Prime's shoulder, sinking his digits into the metal, "If you will not tell me, _Smokescreen_ most definitely will." The smile that spread across scarred faceplates bore sharp denta behind them, an immoral look. Optimus' optics widened, but before he could muster a sentence, Megatron disappeared out of the automatic door. What was left was the Drones, pointing their blasters at Optimus' fascia. Energon dripped from Optimus' lip components, drizzling down his chin and against his chassis. To keep from Optimus escaping, an Eradicon approached, snickering evilly before ramming his blaster against the Prime's helm three times, causing him to fall unconscious.


	3. Finale

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_ _Hey everybody! I would like to apologize for my disappearance and the fact I have neglected your want to finish this story and know what happens next. I have been working full-time and haven't found the muse or the time to write! I am engaged and paying my own car off and all that stuff. All excuses at this point, but here is what I have written in ONE NIGHT last night! I will update this chapter as I write more, just keep an eye out! Thank you!_

Fuchsia infused with the deepest depths of ebony vanquished any figments of a comforting invitation. Smoked ivory hinted of steel reflected against shades of scarlet and cobalt, checkered amongst double 38's on a set of doorwings. The praxian felt fear pulsate within his spark chamber, the venting system leading him to a cold corridor. Everything looked foreign. Suddenly nothing made sense, and all Smokescreen wanted to do was allow lubricant to seep from his optics. Intakes of air allowed the youngling to gather the courage to fall to the spooky corridor, pede steps softly impacting with the metal flooring. It seemed as though Smokey had eons to study each and every aspect of the Nemesis during his quality time with Alpha Trion. And yet here he was, processor scrambled with the haunting horror of Megatron terminating his sire, him unable to do anything to save him. Soft alarms sounded against the static that danced within the open air, yielding the silence.

"Focus, Smokescreen. What's the quickest way to the comm. hub?" The flat surface of the youngling's palm rested against the side of the wall, optics gleaming with unyielding fear that began to consume him. Cold metal drug his pedes on the tile, as he walked down the corridor- Smokey hadn't seen his sire in a while, so he was searching for an open door. Slowly, the young mech neared the source of the blaring alarms and flashing led lights. Colors danced against his painted metal, changing with the shade of light. As Smokescreen neared said alarms at the ending of the corridor, pede steps slammed into the metallic flooring.

"Scrap...!" Came his hushed curse, causing the young one to crouch, doorwings pinning against his back plating. Dome snapping behind him, the Autobot caught sight of shadows approaching in the far distance. In turn, this caused Smokescreen to drift left, an open door inviting him inside. Automatic sensors caused the door to close behind him, and before the youthful Soldier was a display of six large monitors. Cybertronian coding and the Decepticon's own language flooded the screens, and Smokescreen had a haunting feeling this.. may take a while. Funny how the Communications and cloaking systems were directly behind the holding cells and torturing wing. Unfortunately, those same steps and voices filled outside the door. Smokescreen grumbled to himself, and the ventilation systems within the ship was where he hid. The boy had just ducked beneath the ledge of the vents when the troopers swarmed the room. They were far more clueless than a regular Decepticon, so a brief sweep of the Communications Hub and they were off.

The tips of his wings grazed the top of the lip as he crawled out. Blinking softly, he crept towards the terminals and wiggled his digits about. Taking a deep intake, Smokey allowed the air to clear his systems before releasing it. "I can do this... how many times did Alpha Trion punish me for misbehaving? He KNEW I hated bothering with unfamiliar encryption." Optimus had, in fact, passed on some of his archivist knowledge upon his sparkling. How the Prime knew his young would require this skill in the near future, Smokescreen did not know. As Smokescreen began to punch away the keys, the 'Con tech began giving him slight trouble. Smokey exercised caution- Soundwave could be sleeping within these encryptions, and he did not wish to wake the beast.

It took Smokescreen a quite a few klicks, but soon he had cracked the code. The unique cloaking the Decepticons used was now down, and the Autobots could pinpoint the location of the ship. A smile spread across his sweet features, "Thank you, old bot." Came the boy's thankful chime; but it was premature. Voices, once again, sounded near- and Smokescreen froze. There was now no longer time to send out a signal to his carrier, and thus, the young one bolted for the venting. Sapphire optics gleamed against the darkness as three Aradicons moved calmly into the room, appearing to do a routine check. Megatron no doubt ordered them to keep tabs on this room in particular. As they seemed unimpressed with their task at hand, Smokescreen was already out of sight and out of mind.

"This would be a lot easier if I had my phase shifter..." Came the youngling's voice as he crawled within the duct, wings once again scraping the top of the cramped space. As the young one moved across the floor, an opening caused a sigh of relief from Smokescreen. Nudging open the hatch, he crawled out, shakily rising to his pedes. Making sure the coast was clear, Smokescreen observed and weighed both options before him. Choosing the option to move back towards the holding ward, the youngling fully planned on stealing back his phase shifter.. AND his sire. Soft pede steps once more lead him towards his destination, optics gleaming against the dim light. Drifting towards the wall, his digits grazed once more against the metallic surface.

The alarms still gleamed against the splitting silence, causing Smokescreen to follow toward them. A set of alarms resided near the Comm. Room, and where he had escaped. Next to his holding cell was his sire, no doubt, or perhaps a room down the corridor. He HEARD the abuse, the torment inflicted upon his father. Megatron will pay. Even as he neared his original location, troopers moved down the hall behind him once more. Spinning about, Smokescreen briefly flared his doorwings before lowering them, walking backwards and into the shadows of the right side of the next hall- the lights were shot, needing repaired or even replaced. As the shadows danced against the wall, Smokescreen backed up further. Almost immediately, the young one's wings collided with something behind.

Smokescreen hadn't a second to turn about before Megatron reached for his left doorwing. Talons sunk into the sensitive metallic mesh, enough to draw energon. The cry that resulted from said wounds made Megatron's smile spread, shark like denta gleaming against what light did reside there. Pulling Smokescreen into open air, the Lord of Darkness allowed him to become level with his own infuriated optics. Shivering metal and fearful optics met deep shades of crimson, and Smokey found he could no longer speak.

"You have been quite troublesome, little one. You have been a very naughty mechling..." The words were growled with such disapproval and raw fury, it instilled within the young Autobot before him. Smokey whimpered against his grip, servos gripping the Lord's wrist, trying to shift weight off of the hinge that connected to his back plating. Smokescreen felt exceedingly far from the ground beneath, processor spinning as Megatron began to walk forwards. In spite of himself, Smokey blinked hard and held his optics closed, forcing a smirk to play upon his mouth.

"I dunno Chief, you got me beat, considering you're the Decepticon's leader." Came his strained reply, in turn causing Megatron to allow a chuckle that held little humor,

"Oh, I must disagree, boy." Large pede steps lead the exuberant mech towards Smokescreen's original prison, troopers stumbling beneath the Warlord's pedes. To the youngling's daunting surprise, they passed right by said cell. The hall lead them to a corner, then towards a doorway guarded by Aradicons. The young Autobot hung within the air, still- the pain was sent in waves against his joint. Everything hurt. Smokescreen wasn't able to suppress the tiniest of whimpers that escaped him. These sounds were music, and the evil Cybertronian hummed and smiled, optics flicking to the fearful ones before him. The drones dipped their helms to their Master, and the Warlord leaned forwards to the optical registration, or a retinal scanner if you will. The eyepiece read Megatron's energon vessels within his optic and the door opened at will. Optimus's helm hung low between his smoke stacks, Smokey's neck straining to see his sire.

"S-Sire!" Came his strangled cry, pedes scraping at Megatron's wide chassis. The action was ignored, and Megatron merely watched this transpire, toothy grin spreading maliciously across his features. The bond between sire and sparkling ignited hard, and thus jolted the Autobot Commander to awaken. The distress within his son's voice was enough for Optimus's optics to online, his systems rebooting. Lifting his helm, it felt as though there were a thousand scraplets eating away at his processor. Optics blinking groggily, they soon focused and widened at the sight of Megatron holding his young.

"Smoke... screen?"


End file.
